The First Dovahkiin
by Silvershadow426
Summary: Follow the story of Almaria, a young Khajiit from ancient Elsweyr, as she travels through the harsh world of Skyrim with her companions while discovering that she is the key to an almost forgotten prophecy. Features OC and slightly inaccurate early lore.
1. The Secret

Thousands of years before the events of Skyrim, in a land known as Elsweyr, there lived a small tribe of Khajiit. Living a life of thievery, the agile forest cats were able to live in luxury, despite their homes being made of pelts and wearing stolen, ragged clothes. Among these cats, in one of the small forts atop a tree, was the chief's wife in labor. It was a momentous day for the Khajiit as they gathered around at the base of the tree, looking up expectantly. The chief of the tribe, Ri'Baars, clutched his wife's paw tightly and murmured encouraging words to her as she gave birth to their first born. Jo'Rakha, the shaman, quickly wrapped the newborn cub in a warm pelt before examining the child in his arms. Ri'Baars looked up at him with happiness in his amber eyes as the shaman smiled at him.

"It is a girl, my chief," Jo'Rakha said quietly before handing her to her exhausted mother. Her husband redirected his attention to her and his new daughter.

"Kisharna," he purred proudly, "what shall we name her?" Kisharna held the quiet cub close to her chest as she thought carefully.

"Almaria," she finally decided. "Her name is Almaria." Ri'Baars nodded his head in agreement.

"It is a beautiful name." He looked at Jo'Rakha again. "She will be a great thief, just as her ancestors before her." The shaman hesitated slightly when he looked at Almaria's sleeping form.

"Yes, she will be a great Khajiit." Kisharna and Ri'Baars' happiness blocked out Jo'Rakha's suspicious movements.

Eighteen years passed as the leaders saw their daughter quickly grow up into a beautiful, young Khajiit. The tribe's swampy forest home had become her own as she learned how to maneuver through the branches that towered above her; her sensitive ears had learned how to pick up the silent sounds of the birds flying above and the bugs that crawled along the ground. Everything that a Khajiit should master, Almaria was learning faster than most did, and for that Ri'Baars couldn't be prouder. One day while Almaria was out of camp, Jo'Rakha hesitantly approached the chief.

"Ri'Baars, you and I need to discuss Almaria," he quickly muttered, knowing the future outcome of this conversation. Ri'Baars looked at him with suspicion, but the nervous shaman continued. "I never told you this, but I believe that there is something different about her." The chief's black fur immediately stood on end.

"What in the name of Rajhin are you talking about?" he growled, causing Jo'Rakha to flinch. "Almaria is a perfect Khajiit. She has even just left to go raid one of the neighboring villages!" The shaman put his paws up in defense, not wanting to evoke his leader's wrath any more than he was now.

"Please, listen," he tried reasoning. "I should have told you and Kisharna the day she was born."

"What should you have told us?" Kisharna was suddenly behind the two males in the pelt tent, and Jo'Rakha could sense a strong sense of wonder and suspicion emanating off of the female. Once she was positioned beside her husband, he continued.

"Kisharna, Ri'Baars, I believe that Almaria is not really a thief." Ri'Baars let out a powerful growl and bared his teeth in anger.

"How can you accuse her of not being a thief?" he questioned. "Every time she has come back from a raid, she always has something that benefits our tribe!" Kisharna placed a gentle paw on his shoulder and waited for him to calm down before looking at the nervous Khajiit in front of her, and nodded at him to continue.

"But that is just the thing, my chief. She never goes on raids with others; she only goes by herself. I think that she just finds something from the forest and brings it back here." He looked down nervously. "Do you remember the day the giant spider attacked our camp?"

Ri'Baars' ears lowered slightly as he remembered that day two years ago. The cats had been forced up into the trees, defenseless, as a giant spider invaded the camp and almost destroyed everything. Luckily, no one had been hurt. "Yes, I remember. What does it have to do with anything?"

"I remember how the spider almost destroyed our home because no one could do anything. The only member not among us was your daughter. She was down on the ground, _fighting _the beast."

"But some of our members have been trained to fight," Kisharna brought up, but Jo'Rakha still frowned.

"Not like her. It looked like the Great Alkosh had given her the strength and the courage to fight that spider." Ri'Baars held up his paw for him to stop.

"Jo'Rakha, I understand your concern," he said slowly, clearly calmer than he was before. "But she is our daughter. Being a chief's daughter is a big responsibility in itself. She was just blinded by the fact that she needed to protect her tribe." Before Jo'Rakha could say anything else, Ri'Baars and Kisharna proceeded to exit the tent. "She is my daughter, she will be the future chief, and she is and always will be a great thief." As the shaman was left alone in the pelt tent, his ears lowered as he remembered the first day Almaria had opened her eyes. The sight of her bright blue eyes had sent such a shock through Jo'Rakha's body that he had almost collapsed.

"No Khajiit has ever had blue eyes," he muttered to himself as he recalled all of the times he had encountered amber, gold, yellow, auburn, brown, hazel, and even green, but never blue. He will never forget the supernatural sensation that coursed through him as she stared at him for the first time. Ri'Baars would never understand what Jo'Rakha had felt. Something was different about this Khajiit, and he would find out what.

"Your form has been getting better, Almaria." A deep voice interrupted the silent swings of steel swords slicing through the air. As Almaria turned around, smiling her signature toothy grin, a dark brown Khajiit with piercing yellow eyes appeared behind her.

"Thank you, Do'Tsaar," she said happily as she placed her swords back into their sheaths. "I do not know what I would have done if you had not made these swords for me." Do'Tsaar placed a paw behind his head in embarrassment.

"I am just happy I am no longer the only member of our tribe with a secret." As he quickly tossed Almaria a piece of bread, she sat down on a nearby log and thought about how much help her friend had provided for her. Do'Tsaar had lived three extra years than she had, so he was still young, but like herself he had no desire to be a thief. When she had finished her snack, Almaria unsheathed one of the swords to admire it.

"I must say, despite having to learn on your own, you make an amazing blacksmith," she praised. This fact was true; Do'Tsaar had taught himself how to forge weapons from daggers to swords, and Almaria had tested every single one of them.

"Well, you were practically born to be a warrior," Do'Tsaar replied. Almaria's whiskers twitched into a smile as she silently swung the weapon around to separate a branch from the trunk of a tree. Almaria didn't know it, but Jo'Rakha's hunch about her was correct. She hated the idea of stealing, but loved the thrill and excitement of swinging not one, but two swords through the air. While the female Khajiit went back to practicing her form, Do'Tsaar retreated back into the woods only to appear a few seconds later. Almaria looked up curiously before she loudly purred with delight and gave her friend a hug.

"I hope it works," he said sheepishly. "It is my first time making a bow and arrows." Almaria carefully took the new weapon out of his paws and slowly caressed her claws over the smooth wood, adjusting to the new feel. She then picked up an arrow, feeling the weightlessness as she held it up to her eyes and stared down to the point. Without saying a word, she positioned herself to shoot. Her form didn't last long as her arm muscles screamed for her to stop.

"Do'Tsaar, will you go make a target for me out of that tree trunk?" she asked, trying to find a suitable position to hold the new bow. Do'Tsaar nodded and ran to a tree about twenty feet away. Using the dagger he kept hidden under his rags, he quickly carved circles into the trunk for Almaria to aim at. When he was finished, he ran back.

Despite having years of practice with swords, it took a while for Almaria's arms to build up enough strength to even pull back the arrow without them starting to ache. The first few times that she tried to shoot it at the newly made target, she missed heavily, but after a few more tries she was getting the hang of it. On some days, she wouldn't even shoot anything. She would just stand for hours at a time pulling the arrows back and holding the position. The warrior practiced this technique everyday for two months before she finally shot the arrow into the center of the carved-out target.


	2. The Discovery

"Do'Tsaar, she must tell the truth," Jo'Rakha hissed at the Khajiit standing in front of him. He had approached him mere moments ago to confront him about Almaria's secret, but Do'Tsaar simply stood his ground as he glared back at the shaman.

"How could you have possibly found out?" His ears started flattening in fear for his friend; if Almaria's parents found out about the secret life their daughter had been keeping from them, her punishment would be severe. Jo'Rakha's dark brown eyes revealed signs of hostility.

"I have had a strange feeling about her since the day she was born," he explained. "I had always known that she was never a thief." Do'Tsaar, his yellow eyes burning with rage, pointed an accusing claw at Jo'Rakha.

"What about you?" he growled. "You are not a thief either!" In a blink of an eye, Jo'Rakha was standing over Do'Tsaar menacingly, making the slightly smaller one cringe. He couldn't remember the last time the shaman cat had looked this angry. Without saying a word, Jo'Rakha lifted his right paw up to Do'Tsaar's face so that he could examine the symbol that he already knew about.

"I did not have a choice," Jo'Rakha muttered as he dropped his paw back down to his side. "You know that Khajiit born with that mark are made to be shamans." Do'Tsaar rolled his eyes as he remembered one of the stories that he had been told to as a cub.

The Great Alkosh had decided that Khajiit tribes needed to have someone to guide them, someone who would be able to heal the weak, and be able to delve into the minds of the gods to bring back prophecies for the future. Whenever a new shaman was needed, Alkosh would visit a cub that still rested in his or her mother's womb and carve a symbol somewhere on their body. Every symbol was the same: a simple spiral that started at the base of the wrist and wrapped itself into the center of the palm. Jo'Rakha had been born with the mark on his right palm twenty-six years ago, but he always felt so much obligation at such a young age.

Do'Tsaar looked at Jo'Rakha in the eye, his eyelids closing so that his yellow orbs were only seen through slits.

"Maybe Almaria was born to be a warrior." Jo'Rakha's tawny fur ruffled at his statement, knowing that there was the possibility that the gods had different plans for her, but he quickly dismissed the idea as he quickly whipped around.

"I am going to find her," he growled as his tail slashed through the air behind him, "and I am going to make her reveal herself." As Jo'Rakha started walking away towards the camp, Do'Tsaar's ears slowly changed their position from hostile to sadness as he spoke up again.

"If you reveal her secret, you must reveal mine, too." Jo'Rakha stopped and quickly turned around, looking at the blacksmith as if he had sprouted an extra head.

"You know I cannot do that," he muttered, mostly to himself. Do'Tsaar took a step forward.

"And why not?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. Jo'Rakha's face softened and his fur started to lie flat again.

"You know that a secret like yours would result in death," the shaman said sadly. "I cannot do that to you, brother." Do'Tsaar crossed his arms in annoyance.

"And the same thing would happen to Almaria," he growled through his teeth. "Either you spare Almaria or you lose me with her." Jo'Rakha sucked in a quick breath of air at his younger brother's terms, but he didn't hesitate in shaking his head in defeat.

"Fine, I will continue to let her do as she will." The Khajiit turned around to go back to camp, but murmured one more thing toward Do'Tsaar's direction. "But if she keeps this up any longer, it will not end well for any of us."

Almaria's ears pricked as rustling in the foliage interrupted her archery training, and as she circled her eyes around the clearing she could feel her fur standing on end. Could someone have found her? When her eyes found the source of the rustling, her arms automatically drew back the arrow as she quietly sneaked up to the tropical shrubs. The rustling got louder as she approached, one paw step at a time, her arms tight and ready to let the arrow shoot its target if it was an intruder. When the Khajiit was finally in front of the foliage, she took a deep breath and leaped over it.

The creature before her was something she had never seen before, and she almost couldn't even begin to describe it. It was small, about the size of a newborn cub, so Almaria knew it had to be a baby. The thought made her relax and lower her bow, but she still held the arrow between her fingers in case the seemingly innocent creature decided to attack. The creature had scales, some looking like common lizard scales, others looking like large plates, and shimmered dark gray in the sunlight. It had two legs, each equipped with three claws and a dewclaw on the heel. Two leathery wings sprouted from its shoulders, and a single claw was placed on the end of each one. To complete its look, two tiny horns protruded out of the top of its head. When the creature had noticed Almaria's sudden appearance, it had looked up at her with small, scared, golden brown eyes.

Almaria's head cocked to the side in curiosity. How could something equipped with the build it had look so tiny and innocent at the same time? She was suddenly compelled to try and interact with this new and mysterious animal. Slowly and calmly, Almaria placed her weapon on the ground and stayed crouching so that she didn't seem so domineering over this creature.

"Hello, little one," she said kindly, offering out her paw. "Come on, there is no reason to be afraid of me." The creature looked deep into her blue eyes before it slowly approached. The cat looked at the curious way that it walked, using its wings as a pair of front legs. When it finally sniffed her paw, it sat back on its haunches and stared at her for a long time. When it was obvious that the creature wasn't going to run off, Almaria spoke up again.

"What are you?" she breathed out, not wanting to disturb it with the breaking silence.

"I don't know," a small voice suddenly said. Almaria fell back onto the ground as she realized that the voice had come from the creature sitting in front of her. Gathering her bearings, she sat up again, crossed her legs, and stared at it in awe.

"Y-you spoke," she stammered in disbelief, but this time only received a nod. "Where did you come from?" she asked, trying to figure out what this thing was. The creature slowly walked closer and rested its small head on her knee.

"I don't know," it muttered again, but Almaria could detect a hint of guilt in its voice, as if it knew that it wasn't helping her figure out this new thing. The Khajiit slowly and gently lifted her paw and reached toward the animal resting on her knee, but when it showed no signs of moving, she simply starting stroking the top of its head with her fingers. Her ears pricked slightly as she detected a sort of purring sound escape from the tiny creature while its long tail slowly swished from side to side along the ground.

"You need a name," the cat whispered mostly to herself. While she continued to run her fingers over the creature's scales, it looked up at her with curiosity in its golden eyes.

"Do you want to be friends?" Almaria blinked in surprise at the sudden question, but her kind smile was enough of an answer for the creature. It spread out its large wings in excitement and happiness and was suddenly jumping into Almaria's arms with joy. Almaria let out a quick laugh before looking down at the animal that was now nuzzling her throat.

"I just have one more question for you, little one," she said, a hint of seriousness creeping into her voice. "Where are your parents?" She felt the creature tense slightly before hearing a small whimper escape its throat, causing her breath to catch in her own. This tiny, helpless baby had no family, and suddenly Almaria knew what she had to do. Wrapping her arms around the baby, she held it close to her in a comforting hug.

"Do not worry," she whispered. "I will take care of you, and I promise to make sure no one ever hurts you, Alduin."

The creature purred at the sound of its new name.

As time passed, the list of questions about Alduin and what he was continued to grow in Almaria's mind. In the three months that had gone by, Alduin had proven to be a valid hunter, even though Almaria still thought he was much too young to be able to take down a full-grown forest troll by himself; he had also grown rapidly, now being the size of those desert steeds Almaria had heard about by the elder tribe members; and he could breath fire. The first time Alduin had spewed the hot air from his mouth, it had genuinely scared the cat, knowing that fire was a dangerous thing. But he was careful with his power, and only used it to cook his food to his liking. Despite these questions and the power that Alduin held inside himself, Almaria still loved him with all her heart, and continued to keep her promise that no one would ever hurt him.

Until the day when Ri'Baars and her tribe had found the two of them training in the forest.

Through Almaria's eyes, it had all happened so fast. In the first heartbeat, her mother and father burst through the foliage with looks of horror and anger, and in the next, two of the tribe members held her paws behind her back and shoved her to the ground. When she looked up, she felt tears start to form as the remaining tribe members overtook her friend to the ground and left him incapacitated. As she looked up at the tribe leader in confusion and fear, she couldn't help but question how they had found out about her secret.

"Jo'Rakha warned me for years," her father growled menacingly while rage flared from his amber eyes, "but I did not want to believe it." His night-black fur stood on end, emphasizing his anger and disappointment at his daughter. "Sit her up," he commanded to the two cats who held her. After they repositioned Almaria so that she was sitting on her knees, Ri'Baars couldn't help but cast his eyes slowly over the sword and the bow that laid on the ground before finally resting his eyes on the large, dark gray creature before him.

"I am sorry, Almaria, but it had to done," Jo'Rakha murmured toward the warrior, but he was only met with an icy glare that made him question himself on whether he should've caused this situation to happen. Ri'Baars moved the shaman aside and crouched down so that he was face-to-face with Almaria.

"What is that?" he asked slowly, pointing a finger at one of the weapons that had been thrown to the ground in haste. Almaria looked down with guilt, but continued to show the frustrated look on her face.

"A sword," she almost whispered.

"And that?"

"A bow."

"And _that_?" The one word held so much malice, so much hate, that it almost broke Almaria's heart hearing her father speak like that about Alduin. But a voice in the back of her mind couldn't help but nag about the fact that this day would've come eventually. She had always known this risk, but she continued on the path that she was clearly chosen to walk on. Gathering up her courage, Almaria slowly lifted her head.

"_He_," she purposefully emphasized, "is Alduin. He is my friend." She noticed her father's ears lower even as he tried to maintain a straight face. He stood up so that he over-towered her, and at the same time caused Almaria to have to crane her neck upward.

"How long have you been living this life?" he asked, the words dripping with disbelief. Almaria didn't hesitate with her answer.

"My whole life." When her father glanced at Alduin and then back at her, she sighed and closed her eyes. "I found him three months ago." When she looked up at the chief again, she was met by a swift strike of claws across the bridge of her nose. The force of the blow caused her head to swing to the side; she could feel the blood start to trickle down at the same time Alduin roared out in fury, but the tribe members were able to successfully keep him on the ground.

"Kisharna," Ri'Baars growled toward his wife, "see if you can talk some sense into this cat." Kisharna slowly padded toward her daughter, pain and hurt clearly visible in her hazel eyes. She crouched down and rested a paw on Almaria's shoulder.

"Why, Almaria?" Her voice cracked. "You are a Khajiit. You are supposed to be a thief." Almaria's hateful look towards her father and the shaman immediately disappeared for her mother.

"Because I did not want to be a thief," she responded, but the confidence was slowly draining from her voice. "I wanted to be a warrior." As she paused, she found her confidence again. "I am a warrior." Kisharna finally broke down, allowing the tears to stream down her face as she stood up and faced away from Almaria. Ri'Baars once again found himself standing in front of the warrior.

"You have betrayed us, Almaria," he growled. "And you know the punishment for betrayal." Almaria's ears lowered in sadness, but she still refused to let the tears break through. As her father turned away, she spoke up suddenly.

"Do not hurt Alduin," she muttered, trying her best to keep her promise to him. Her father turned around, giving her his full attention. "You can do whatever you must to me, but do not harm Alduin at all." Almaria's blue eyes glowed strongly, and she held her head up high to make sure that Ri'Baars knew that she was serious. She felt offended when he let out a small chuckle.

"All right," he said a bit too slowly. "But first, you must tell me who helped you make these weapons. There is no way you could possibly know how to forge." Almaria revealed her toothy grin and cocky attitude.

"If you did not even notice the muscle I was gaining on my arms, how would you even know what else I am capable of?" Ri'Baars lunged forward, firmly grasping his daughter's shoulders with his powerful paws.

"Tell me who helped you," he demanded through his teeth, his hot breath on her fur. Almaria was smart enough and clever enough not to quickly cast a glance at Do'Tsaar, knowing that her quick eye movement would've been a dead giveaway. Instead, she kept her eyes firmly locked on Ri'Baars'.

"No one helped me," she said slowly, praying to the gods that her voice wasn't shaking. When Ri'Baars finally leaned away from her, he looked at Jo'Rakha.

"You know what you must do." Alduin started a fit again, trying to fight the cats that were piled on top of him again.

"No!" he shouted angrily. "You can't!" Almaria glanced at Alduin and smiled gently. He immediately stopped as his golden brown eyes locked with her blue orbs, knowing the silent message that Almaria was sending to him through her smile.

_They will not hurt you._

As the shaman approached, the members who held Almaria finally let her go and allowed her to stand up to face her death proudly. When the two cats were face-to-face with one another, she looked at him pleadingly. Almaria knew from the look on his face that he felt guilty about having to be the one to kill her; this dreadful task always fell upon the shaman of a tribe.

"All right, betrayer," he said suddenly, loud enough for the tribe to hear. "You come over here with me." As he grabbed Almaria's nape and led her a little ways away from the rest of the tribe, he leaned in close to her ear. "Consider this a favor for not revealing my brother," he whispered. Almaria only gave him a confused look, but stood rooted to the spot after he let her go. Jo'Rakha's hands glowed as he charged up a spell, but the entire time Almaria only kept her eyes locked on Alduin.

Jo'Rakha let loose the spell, and the sight of Alduin disappeared from her vision with a bright white flash.


	3. A Warm Welcome

The bright vortex seemed to twist Almaria into different positions as she felt her body fly through the air. She closed her eyes to block out the white light, and she could feel her fangs grinding together as the pain enveloped over her entire being. The cat didn't know what was happening to her, but she did come to one conclusion: Jo'Rakha hadn't killed her. It was the only thing she could think about; the pain and endless pulling clouded her thoughts so that she couldn't ration out as to why he hadn't just killed her on the spot. Finally, after what felt like endless hours of being tugged through an empty vortex Almaria let out a gasp as she felt her body suddenly fall onto the ground.

Her body felt sore all over, and she kept her eyes clenched shut as she dared not move for fear that something might have broken. The individual pains that coursed through the cat eventually subsided after she lay on the ground for several minutes. When she finally felt like herself again, Almaria gathered up her strength and lifted herself up onto her knees. Once her eyes had adjusted after being pierced by blinding light, she observed her surroundings.

It was dusk, the sun just beginning to set in the west, leaving a beautiful pattern of colors from red to dark purple in the sky. As Almaria looked around in awe, she noticed the foliage that surrounded her; the trees were tall and thin, with little green stubs protruding off of each branch. She cocked her head in curiosity.

"These do not look like the trees in Elsweyr," she muttered to herself as she continued to look around. While still kneeling on the ground, she couldn't help but notice the very large and seemingly endless rocks that seemed to enclose her on all sides. The rocks looked continuous, reaching high up into the sky and hiding the sun behind their smooth looking exterior. When the cat noticed what looked like clouds sitting at the rocks' peaks, she realized how drastically cold it was.

"Jo'Rakha," she breathed sadly, "where am I?" Almaria knew that there was no possible way that she was in Elsweyr anymore, but how could Jo'Rakha have sent her to a different place entirely? She tried to replay his final words in her head.

_Consider this a favor for not revealing my brother. _

Almaria blinked in understanding at the memory. "He did this to save me." Her body suddenly tensed as she recalled having to leave Alduin with her tribe. "What did they do to him after I was sent here?" Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt a sharp pain hit the back of her head. As she once again lay on the ground in pain, she could just barely make out voices above her.

"A Khajiit, huh?" one of the voices said, with an irritant voice. "What do you think it's doing here?"

"Probably trying to steal from us," another man spoke beside the first one. "You know how those cats are." Almaria didn't hear anymore of their conversation as she quickly slipped into unconsciousness.

The sound of creaking wood and animals walking across the ground finally awoke Almaria from her sleep, although when she opened her eyes she couldn't help but notice just how tired she still was. She slowly lifted up her head, feeling the sharp pain in the back of her head again, except it had dulled since she was knocked unconscious. When she tried to reach a paw up to rub the back of her head, she realized that both of her paws were bound together with rope. She was too tired to panic, and instead observed her surroundings again.

Judging from the position of the moons above her, Almaria guessed that it had to be about midnight. The trees and rocks around her moved past at a moderate pace, and the cat had to open her tired blue eyes even more to realize that she was on a large cart. The cart was being pulled by a large, brown, quadropedal animal; remembering the stories that the elders had told in her tribe, Almaria figured that this animal had to be one of the steeds that the desert Khajiit had used to get around quickly. A creature she didn't recognize was controlling the steed; it didn't have any fur on its body, but was covered in brown leather. When Almaria looked behind her, she realized that there were more of these creatures sitting in the cart with her, and one extra one riding a steed behind the cart.

"Hey, you," one of the creatures said. Almaria's ears pricked as she got a look at it from the front. The tone of voice suggested that it was male; he wasn't wearing the same material as the driver, but his hands were bound just like hers. His hairless body was a pale color, and the only fur that she could see was a yellowish color that sat on top of his head. "You're finally awake."

Almaria only nodded, unable to find her voice. She had no idea what was going on, and somehow sensed that if she asked anything out of the ordinary it would not end up well for her.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" he continued, not giving her time to respond. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." He jerked his head over at the creature with brown hair that sat next to him.

"Damn you Stormcloaks," he growled back. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy."

_Imperial? Stormcloaks? Empire? Skyrim? _Almaria's head reeled as she listened to these foreign words being tossed around. _What is going on? _

The angry creature continued. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell." Almaria assumed that he was referring to the four-legged animal pulling the cart as a horse, another word that felt strange in her head. He suddenly looked at Almaria. "You, there. You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the first creature said. The driver of the cart suddenly turned around and glared at the group.

"Shut up back there!" Almaria flinched at the sound in his voice, afraid to make a single sound. Her ears couldn't help picking up a muffled growl from the thing sitting next to her. When the driver turned back around, the brown-haired creature spoke up again.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Watch your tongue!" the other said sharply. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

_High King?_

"Ulfric?" the second questioned. "The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you..." He paused before looking up in fear. "Oh gods, where are they taking us?"

A sigh was heard from the blond. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." Fear laced his voice.

"Hey, what village are you from horse thief?"

"Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." Almaria's breath caught in her throat. Did Jo'Rakha send her to a different place to be killed just so that he didn't have to do it himself?

"Rorikstead. I'm-I'm from Rorikstead." The blond nodded and looked at the terrified cat.

"What about you?" Almaria wondered if she should tell this "Nord" that she came from a completely different place, but when she was about to open her mouth, a voice interrupted her.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" Almaria stared ahead, her blue eyes wide as she scanned the outside walls of what looked like a village made of stone instead of trees. Another voice responded, and Almaria guessed that it had come from the one named General Tullius.

"Good," he said curtly. "Let's get this over with."

Although Almaria didn't know what was going on, she knew that everyone in these carts were about to be killed for some reason. She looked over at the terrified Nord, who was staring up at the sky with a look of desperation.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh," he muttered to himself. "Divines, please help me." As the carts slowly passed through the open doors, Almaria couldn't help but look over at the others on horseback that were standing next to the entrance. The blond Nord spoke up again.

"Look at him," he said with a hint of malice in his voice. "General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." As the horses continued to pull the carts deeper into the village, he spoke up again, this time with content. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilad is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in."

Almaria could tell that the Nord was mostly talking to himself, reminiscing on past memories from this stony town. He let out a small laugh.

"Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

"Who are they, daddy?" Almaria heard a small voice behind her, and when she turned around to look at the little boy on the porch, she couldn't help her ears from lowering in sadness. "Where are they going?" His father gently pulled the child's arm to get him to stand up.

"You need to go inside, little cub," he said in as calm a voice as possible. The boy only looked up at the taller Nord.

"Why?" he asked with innocent curiosity. "I want to watch the soldiers."

"Inside the house. Now." This time, his voice was stern. When the boy finally went inside, Almaria drew her attention back to the current situation. The carts were coming to a stop, and she heard a very stern, female voice shouting out orders.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!"

"Why are we stopping?" The Nord's face was full of terror at what was happening. The other Nord turned toward him.

"Why do you think?" he asked rhetorically. "End of the line." When the cart finally came to a complete stop, the blond started to stand up. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

Almaria, terrified as she was, couldn't help but admire his bravery in the face of death while trying to calm the nerves of the other. But even as he tried, the terrified Nord still wouldn't come to terms.

"No! Wait!" he called out in fear. "We're not rebels!" As Almaria carefully leaped out of the cart after the protesting Nord, she couldn't help but stare up at the dark sky and pray to the gods for a miracle to happen.

"Face your death with some courage, thief," the blond said behind the Khajiit, but the Nord still wouldn't accept that this was his fate.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" Once everyone was off of the cart and on the ground, the female who was barking orders a short while ago stepped forward menacingly. She was covered head to toe in steel armor while the male standing next to her was covered in brown leather, so it didn't take long for Almaria to guess that she was extremely important.

"Step towards the block when we call your name," she ordered sternly. "One at a time." The Nord standing beside Almaria let out an irritated sigh.

"Empire loves their damn lists," he muttered to himself. Almaria looked straight ahead, terrified to death, but tried to hide her twitching tail and make her ears perk up a bit more instead of having them flattened against her head. Her claws on her feet started nervously digging into the ground as the male standing next to the important female started reading names off of a piece of parchment.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," he started. "Jarl of Windhelm." The Nord named Ulfric did not hesitate in stepping towards where the female had directed them to go once their name was called, and Almaria couldn't help but notice him lock eyes with the brave Nord who stood next to her.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," he said, just loud enough for most of everyone to hear. Once Ulfric had passed by the group, the male started calling out names again.

"Ralof of Riverwood." Almaria looked over at the blond as he walked with dignity over to where the other prisoners stood, awaiting their deaths.

_If the gods are with us this night, _she thought to herself, _I will have to compliment Ralof on his bravery. _

"Lokir of Rorikstead." Almaria's eyes widened in horror as she watched the scene in front of her play out in what only felt like the blink of an eye. Lokir quickly approached the Imperials.

"No, I'm not a rebel," he tried to explain, his voice having a slight hint of madness creeping in from the situation that was happening. "You can't do this!" Before Lokir could even give them a chance to respond, he did something absolutely crazy: he ran.

"Halt!" the woman shouted as Lokir ran past her, almost knocking her to the ground.

"You're not going to kill me!" he shouted back as he quickly made his way up the path toward the main gate. Almaria could only watch in awe and horror while her jaw hung open in shock.

"Archers!" the woman suddenly shouted. The group of prisoners couldn't avert their eyes as four males with bows shot at the fleeing Lokir at once. When the arrows had hit their mark, he fell to the ground dead. Almaria cringed as her sensitive ears picked up his pained gasp when he fell into his own blood. The female whipped around, her eyes burning with irritation and anger.

"Anyone else feel like running?" she demanded. Almaria, hoping that they had forgotten about sending her to her death, awkwardly stood in place before the male looked up at her with curiosity.

"Wait," he said, nudging the female with his elbow. "You there. Step forward." The cat lowered her ears again as she slowly approached the menacing female, but tried to keep her eyes focused on the male. He looked carefully at her. "Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Almaria." Even though she had managed to keep her voice from trembling, she had to push it out a bit for the male to hear her. It took her a quick moment to realize that she had lightly bitten her tongue as she almost spoke the words "from Elsweyr", which would've given her some strange looks. Luckily for her, Almaria was able to watch her mouth as she stared at the Nord as he looked down the list.

"You with one of the trade caravans, Khajiit?" he asked absentmindedly as he skimmed for her name. "Your kind always seems to find trouble."

Almaria took a deep breath in irritation; even in a land that was not her own, Khajiit were still labeled as thieves and liars. The tip of her tail flicked a bit, but she made sure not to draw any attention to the fact that a smart comment could end up killing her faster. She decided to remain silent for the better, especially since she didn't have a weapon and her claws were useless as her paws hung loosely in front her in the bindings. Finally, he looked over at the female.

"Captain, what should we do?" he asked, with a hint of confusion in his voice. "She's not on the list." The cat's spirits rose. Maybe the gods were with her in her time of need and she would be set free. The Captain glanced back at him quickly.

"Forget the list," she stated flatly. "She goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain," he responded.

Almaria's ears lowered in sadness while her heart jumped into her throat. Her notion had been correct from earlier; Jo'Rakha had sent her somewhere else to be killed just so that he didn't have to do it himself. She looked down at her feet in sadness as the male's voice sounded towards her once again.

"I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Elsweyr."

Almaria kept her eyes glued to the ground so that they wouldn't see the nasty glare she would've sent them. She didn't want an apology, she wanted to go home! She inwardly sighed, knowing that she had always been an outcast in her village. Even if they stayed true to their word and sent her remains back, would her family even accept them? She looked up in surprise as the Nord gently placed his hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

"Follow the Captain, Almaria," he almost whispered so the Captain couldn't hear him say her name. Almaria sensed that he felt bad about sending her to her death for no reason, but she understood that he couldn't go against her orders. As the Captain started walking towards the group of prisoners that had gathered along with the people of Helgen, she slowly followed along until she was standing next to Ralof. As she stood there, her legs trembling, she noticed someone else approach one of the males who had been on the cart with her, Ralof, and Lokir. As she looked closer she realized that it was Ulfric, who still had the bindings around his mouth for some reason. As the other male approached, Almaria realized that she was getting her first real look at General Tullius. When he was face to face with Ulfric, he crossed his arms and shook his head.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," he said slowly, almost with a small laugh as if he were teasing him with his name. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero." Suddenly, his voice changed from a teasing tone to that of contempt and anger. "But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Ulfric tried to speak out, but the cloth over his mouth only made his words come out muffled. Almaria caught the sparks of anger that erupted from his eyes as he stared at the General, who uncrossed his arms and pointed an accusing finger at Ulfric.

"You started this war," he said, his voice rising with every word, "plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

Almaria ears pricked as she caught a sound on the wind. Half a heartbeat later, everyone else looked up at the sky as it reverberated off the stonewalls. She couldn't place the sound, yet it sounded almost familiar. The male who had asked her name interrupted her thoughts.

"What was that?" he asked incredulously, still looking up at the darkened sky. Tullius paused before looking back at him.

"It's nothing," he reassured. "Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius," the Captain saluted obediently before turning to another female behind her who was wearing delicate-looking robes. "Give them their last rites." The female closed her eyes and raised her arms to the skies as she spoke for all to hear, but Almaria couldn't help but think that the whole "rite" thing was annoying.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius," she proclaimed, "blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved-"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" She was interrupted as someone bravely stepped forward to receive his death. The female looked at him with contempt, but stayed silent.

As the man approached a block on the ground, the Captain stood behind him and pushed him onto his knees. With unnecessary force, she put her foot on his back and pushed him down even further so that his head now rested on the block. Once he was down, he spoke out one last time.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" Almaria looked away quickly as the male with the large axe pulled it up over his head and swung it down toward the block.

_Damn my sensitive ears, _she thought to herself as she heard the man's head rip from his body and land on the ground. When she peeked open one blue eye, she saw the Captain push his limp, headless body to the side. Crimson blood was everywhere.

"You Imperial bastards!" she heard someone shout in anger.

"Justice!" someone else shouted, though she didn't know who.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!"

Almaria's head reeled with what was happening, not knowing who any of these people were or what was happening in this land. She looked over to her left as she heard Ralof sigh, and couldn't help but notice that he was smiling just a bit.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," he said proudly. Her head snapped back to the Captain as she shouted orders again.

"Next, the cat!" Almaria gulped. So this was to be her fate? Having her head chopped off by unknown people in an unknown land? As she went to take a tentative step forward, her ears pricked as everyone heard the mysterious sound echo around them again.

"There it is again," the male from earlier said, this time with some worry to his voice. "Did you hear that?"

"I said, next prisoner!" the Captain said dismissively, almost as if she wanted to get these executions over and done with. The male shook his head before turning to look at Almaria.

"To the block, prisoner," he said softly. "Nice and easy."

Her tail twitched, her heart was beating in her throat, her ears were pushed back, and her fur was starting to rise everywhere on her body. She couldn't help but let her instincts take over just as much as the fear was overpowering her at the same time. Each paw step toward the block was more frightening than the last, and when she finally got there she felt like she was going to throw up. Turning her back on the Captain, she looked desperately at the male, hoping that he could do something to get her out of this situation. But all he did was look away, and she knew that this would be the end. She felt the Captain's foot push her down hard, and all she could see now was the male with the axe. She closed her eyes tight, hoping that the pain would be quick, and felt a tear roll down her face.

"What in Oblivion is that?!" someone shouted before the Captain shouted as well.

"Sentries, what do you see?"

"It's in the clouds!" another person shouted before Almaria finally decided to open her eyes. The axe was right above the male's head, but as the ground suddenly shook he lost his balance and fell backwards. Almaria sat up on her knees and stared in awe, not at the male who's head had been split open when he fell back on the large weapon, but the amazing yet terrifying creature that had landed on top of the tower in front of her. All around her, she heard swords unsheathing and arrows being pulled back on their drawstrings, but only one word from one of the females drew her attention away from everything else.

"Dragon!"

The Khajiit didn't have time to think about what was happening as the sky suddenly turned red in a swirling mass of clouds. Fire rained down from the sky, and as the dragon opened its mouth again blue force came down in her direction. The force knocked her to the ground, and all sound around her disappeared as she blacked out.


	4. A Close Escape

_And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold, _

_That when brothers wage war come unfurled! _

_Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound, _

_With a hunger to swallow the world!_

Almaria knew she hadn't been out for long as she was shaken back to consciousness by a pair of rough hands. Her hearing returned first, but inside she wished it hadn't. Villagers shrieked in fear as they rushed to grab their valuables and escape the small town with their lives; the Captain was yelling orders amongst the chaos to make sure everyone was safe and the beast was killed; arrows were being pulled back nearly every second and released the next. The cat's eyes widened in sudden realization as she remembered why Helgen was in a state of panic, and the single word came back to her mind.

_Dragon._

Almaria wanted to contemplate the meaning of the seemingly familiar word, despite never having heard it before in her life, but as she slowly sat up the hands that had awoken her gripped her arms tightly. Her vision was still slightly distorted, but she recognized the face of Ralof.

"Come on, Almaria," he said urgently as he helped the Khajiit to her feet. She didn't question how he had gotten his hands untied, but the sudden movement made her vision even worse as she stumbled a bit. Ralof caught her before half pulling, half dragging the cat toward one of the towers. "The gods won't give us another chance!"

Focusing her blurry eyes straight ahead, Almaria followed Ralof into the closest stone tower while rocks and fireballs fell all around them. After she stumbled inside, Ralof slammed the door shut behind her just as another fireball flew in their direction.

"Jarl Ulfric," Ralof greeted strongly and respectfully, placing his right fist over his chest and nodding his head once. "What was that thing? Could the legends really be true?"

Almaria, vision having finally returned, stood on shaky legs as she looked over at the two men in awe. Ralof, despite just escaping from the fray outside, was calm and collected, but still held authority in his voice. Ulfric Stormcloak had somehow managed to get his hands freed as well, and had finally been able to remove the gag from his mouth. She felt her fur rise as she finally heard him speak for the first time.

"Legends don't burn down villages." His voice was deep and rough, like gravel rolling down a hill, and it gave the cat chills. From the way he stood, spoke, and how Ralof was showing him respect, Almaria reminded herself that if she ever came in contact with Ulfric again to never get on his bad side.

She took a deep sigh as she finally managed to get her knees to stop shaking, causing Ulfric to finally look at her.

"Who is this?" he asked Ralof, keeping his gaze fixed on her. Almaria gulped, but made sure to stand up a bit more so she didn't look so pathetic.

"Her name is Almaria," Ralof answered. "She was riding with us in the cart, but was wrongly accused of doing anything. We both would've lost our heads if that dragon never showed up." Only moving his head to look behind where Almaria was standing, he finally turned all of his attention back to Ralof.

"I will stay and help the people in here and make my escape back to Windhelm once the dragon has gone. Keep her safe and get out of Helgen." Ralof nodded his head before signaling for Almaria to follow him up the staircase while Ulfric quickly knelt down beside the hurt and bleeding that sat behind her.

As she followed Ralof up the stone stairs, she sighed in relief. Though Ulfric stood and spoke with authority that seemed threatening, he seemed very kind, especially if he told Ralof to keep her safe despite just briefly meeting her.

_Ulfric and my father would have probably been good friends. _When Almaria thought about how closely Ulfric resembled Ri'Baars' leading traits, she couldn't help but feel a sharp twitch in her chest. She still had no idea where she was or what was going on, but she pushed the feeling away as she ascended the tower. _No time for thinking, Almaria, _she thought to herself. _You have to get out of here alive first! Then you can ask questions. _

"Wait, we have to turn around!" The two stopped before the top of the first staircase as another male stood in front of them on the platform. Large boulders blocked their path. "The dragon made it collapse! We can't go up this way."

"Dammit," Ralof growled, trying to think of a new way out with the sudden change in plan. "Where else can we go?" His question was suddenly answered when the wall of the tower shook violently as the stones exploded inside. The man who had stopped them screamed in fear and agony as a large rock trapped him on the ground. Ralof and Almaria had a split second look of the dragon's head before it took a mighty breath and exhaled a stream of hot fire onto the trapped man. Ralof turned around and protectively hugged Almaria, sheltering her from most of the heat.

"_Yol Toor Shul_!"

Almaria's ears pricked in sudden interest as she heard the very faint words. They were faint, hidden under the sounds of the dragon's mighty roar, but where did they come from? She shot a quick glance at Ralof, who was still shielding her from the flames, but she couldn't help noticing that he didn't seem to hear what she heard.

_Did… Did the dragon say them? _Almaria pushed the thought away as Ralof suddenly pulled her up to the newly made hole in the tower. She made sure to ignore the scorched body behind her in order to help keep her head together, and carefully listened to Ralof's instructions.

"There's smoke, but look carefully," he commanded. "Do you see the inn right there?" Almaria squinted her eyes, but managed to see past the cloud of smoke that blocked her path.

"Yes, I see it," she responded, keeping her gaze on the roofless building.

"You're going to have to jump." Almaria's head whipped to the side as she stared at the Nord as if he'd grown a second head.

"Are you crazy?" she yelled over the dragon's bellows. "I will not make it!"

"You're going to have to, Almaria," he said urgently. "It's not as far as it looks."

The cat inhaled deeply, nodded her head, and took her aim. Trusting her instincts, and the strength in her well-muscled legs, she took a few running steps forward and leapt. Ralof had been right by saying the inn was a lot closer than it looked. She easily landed on the other side, after slightly inhaling some of the smoke in her path.

"Ralof!" she coughed, looking back toward the tower. The smoke had become thicker, blocking her vision of where Ralof stood, but she could still easily hear his voice.

"Keep going!" he shouted. "I'm going back down to help Jarl Ulfric. I'll find another way to the Keep. Go, now!" Almaria had no idea where the Keep was, but proceeded to jump down through the hole in the floor while praying to the gods that she would make it out of this ordeal in one piece.

Her heart flew back into her throat as she saw the dragon's shadow quickly fly over the ground as she ran out of the inn, and as she turned the corner she noticed the Nord from earlier who had held the execution list. His sword was drawn, and it wasn't until a second later that she realized he was trying to draw the dragon's attention away from something else.

"Haming, get over here now!" she heard him yell. She ran to the side of the building, where other soldiers stood with their weapons drawn, and took the moment of rest to see the male and a child run toward her. As her attention was drawn on the child, she noticed tears in his eyes.

The ground shook violently, throwing Almaria off balance and making her fall onto the ground. She could barely see the dragon over the pile of flaming rubble, but heard heartbreak and anger in the Nord's voice as he called out a name.

"Torolf! No!"

"_Yol Toor Shul_!" Another flash of hot flames shot out of the dragon's mouth as Almaria's ears once again picked up the foreign, yet familiar, words. She instinctively turned her face away from the heat, but managed to see the heart-wrenching scene of the child being held back as he cried out for his father. Once the dragon had taken to the air again, the older male handed the child off to one of the other soldiers.

"Keep Haming safe, and look for his mother," he commanded. "I have to find General Tullius."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar," one of the soldiers nodded toward him. The male, Hadvar, looked over at the cat in awe.

"You're still alive?" he muttered disbelievingly, but the cat caught the whispered words and stood up defiantly.

"Yes, I am," she said strongly. "Now let us get out of here!" Hadvar nodded his head as he took off toward where the dragon had previously landed while Almaria quickly followed. They ran past another scorched body, this one being the corpse of Torolf, and proceeded to head toward more stone buildings. As they jumped down a slight ledge, Hadvar suddenly pushed Almaria against the wall next to them.

"Don't move!" he commanded. Almaria shut her eyes in fear as the dragon landed right above them, making the Khajiit very uncomfortable with its close proximity. It said the three familiar words again, the words only Almaria could hear, before another stream of fire shot out, no doubt killing another soldier.

_The words, _Almaria suddenly realized, _the words are allowing the dragon to breathe fire! _She didn't have long to analyze this newfound hunch of hers before Hadvar pulled her up some wooden steps and through a collapsed building. They barely made it out into the open when she felt her fur singe on the tip of her tail. The dragon had almost gotten her.

Helgen was officially destroyed. Bodies of soldiers and civilians were littered all over the ground as they had given up their lives to drive off the dragon and save the village. Soldiers were still shooting arrows at the beast, but to no avail.

"General Tullius!" Hadvar shouted before being cut off by his commander.

"Get into the Keep, now!" Tullius was in no mood to lose any more soldiers as he quickly dismissed anything Hadvar was going to say to him. Hadvar glanced back at Almaria, who was still keeping in tow with him.

"Looks like it's just you and me," he said before picking up speed to get to the Keep just around the corner. Almaria's face beamed as she looked ahead and saw Ralof running towards them, alive and safe. However, Hadvar's expression didn't have the same glee plastered on it as Almaria's did.

"Ralof," he spit out venomously. "Get out of my way, you damn traitor!" The two soldiers stopped in front of each other, one Stormcloak, one Imperial, and although Almaria wasn't quite sure about what the stalemate between the two Nords was, she knew from the looks on their faces that they were clearly enemies.

"The Stormcloaks are escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time," Ralof said with what sounded like a hint of pride. They both looked up at the dragon's dark silhouette against one of the bright moons before Hadvar scoffed in angry remorse.

"Fine, but I hope that damn dragon takes you and all of your men to Sovngarde!" he yelled violently before running ahead past Ralof. Almaria had a terrible feeling deep inside of her, and it wasn't just because of the dragon attack.

Watching as Hadvar ran in the opposite direction, Ralof ran toward her and into the Keep closest to where she was standing. Almaria didn't know why her first instinct was to go with Ralof, but she felt a lot safer with him than she did with Hadvar. Ralof was the first person she had met in this new land as they both rode to their supposed deaths. He was very friendly and helpful towards her, while Hadvar had been a bit more demanding and, she had to admit, was a little rude. The cat had this feeling that if she were to get out of this alive, she would much rather have the help of Ralof.

Almaria didn't stop running until she was standing in the middle of the open room. As Ralof quickly slammed the door behind him, the cat couldn't help but look around nervously as the dragon's cries outside seemed to echo around her inside.

"Gunjar…" Ralof's voice sounded heartbroken as it broke her attention away from what was still happening in Helgen and instead drew it toward the dead Stormcloak who had somehow managed to make it into the keep. "I will see you in Sovngarde, someday. Save some mead for me, brother."

"Ralof?" Almaria hesitantly asked. "I do not mean to rush you, but shouldn't we get out of here?" A second passed before Ralof nodded his head in agreement.

"You're right," he said as he stood up again. "I will have time to mourn for my fallen brothers and sisters later. From the looks of things, we might have been the only two to make it in here safely.

"Come here, Almaria," Ralof instructed, grabbing his dagger. "You might be able to move easier without these bindings." Almaria let out a small sigh of gratification as her friend quickly cut away the rope, and felt more at ease with her surroundings and the situation with the full motion she now had of her arms and hands.

"What should we do now?" she asked as she looked around the open room. Her stomach churned as she felt the keep tremble slightly from the dragon flying overhead. A few seconds passed as Ralof checked the barred door before he grunted in annoyance.

"Dammit, it's locked." He looked back at the Khajiit. "Quick, get Gunjar's gear on and give that axe a few swings." Almaria blinked in confusion, but with Ralof's back turned she followed orders.

_Good idea to have armor over rags, I suppose, _she thought to herself as she quickly stripped the soldier of his clothing and slipped it over her fur. With some effort, she tore open a hole for her tail, but left the boots. While only slightly baggy for her slim build, the armor had to do for the meantime, as would the war axe. The weapon felt strange in her hands, and she hoped she could find some swords soon.

"That's all you're taking?" Ralof asked absentmindedly, before realizing that he had accidentally said that out loud. Almaria didn't take too much offense to it.

"I highly doubt his boots would fit me comfortably," she stated. Ralof nodded his head once to apologize as he examined her. While she looked almost exactly like the common Khajiit that roamed his familiar province, she possessed very minor differences. Her fur was thinner, but no doubt it would start to grow soon to help protect her from the harsh cold, and her legs weren't straight. She had been right in mentioning how Gunjar's boots wouldn't have been able to fit as she stood on digitigrade legs. If Ralof knew the proper term for her specific breed, he would've referred to her as a Suthay-raht.

As Almaria tried to get herself comfortable with the axe, her ears pricked to sounds that were coming up the hallway. Before she could inform Ralof, he pushed her against the wall beside one of the gates, and hurriedly whispered in her ear.

"Two Imperials! Be prepared to fight as soon as they open that gate." He drew his own war axe and patiently waited for the time to strike. Almaria, however, was suddenly on edge.

_Fight? I have never fought anything more than a tree! _

"Keep moving, soldier!" a harsh voice demanded as the Imperials drew closer to the locked gate. "Get this gate open!" Almaria's heart jumped suddenly as she recognized the voice as the Imperial's Captain, the female who had sent her to the block without so much as a second thought. Her grip on the axe tightened slightly.

As the gate slowly descended into the floor, Ralof and Almaria locked eyes, silently agreeing to attack only one each. As much as she tried, the cat couldn't seem to steady her breath, and she tried frantically to imagine that she would be hacking at a tree.

"Die, you bastards!" Ralof shouted as the lesser soldier stepped inside. He was completely taken by surprise, and barely had any time to draw his weapon as the battle-driven Stormcloak plunged the axe into his neck. The Captain was much quicker as she unsheathed her sword and aimed it toward Almaria.

She thought she could handle fighting off her attackers, but now that she had finally seen what the violence in Skyrim was like, she didn't want to even think about it. The most blood she had ever seen in her life from an enemy was the giant forest spider that had attacked her village. She was fifteen years old when she realized that all of her secret training had paid off, and the glorious feeling of plunging her swords into the creature to protect her people could not compare to anything else that had happened in her life thus far.

But now, watching the soldier collapse onto the hard floor with fresh blood oozing out of his neck, she realized that she didn't have the strength to fight off her attackers. Why should she? She didn't know these people, or this land, and these were clearly people that had some quarrel amongst one another. She was being dragged into a situation she didn't even know about, and was now expected to fight for a side.

"Almaria!"

Ralof's yell broke the cat out of her stupor just in time for her to raise the axe above her head, blocking the sword that would have come straight down on top of her. The Captain was strong, much stronger than Almaria could have anticipated, but her legs managed to keep her standing. Every natural and training instinct was screaming at her to jump back and attack, but she couldn't move. When the Captain finally decided to raise her sword away, Almaria took the chance to leap backwards and prepare to block another attack.

"Dammit, Almaria!" Ralof shouted angrily as he came up behind the Captain, tripped her onto her back, and swung his axe deep into her armor. The Captain grunted in pain before letting out one final breath.

Almaria's legs shook terribly as she stared at the dead Imperial, and it was the drop of her weapon that finally got Ralof's attention.

"Don't you know how to fight, cat?" She gulped at his sudden change in expression towards her, but even as her lowering ears gave away her feelings she still tried to remain strong.

"I do, Ralof! I trained myself for years in the forest-"

"Then why couldn't you take out something as pitiful as a gods damned Imperial?" The Nord was now practically nose-to-nose with Almaria, his hot breath making her whiskers quiver.

"Because it is not my fight!" Almaria was slightly surprised at her own harsh tone, but the sudden growl that had emerged from her throat had made Ralof step away from her. "I do not know where I am, what is going on, or even what this stupid thing is between the Stormcloaks and the Imperials. I know how to fight, Ralof, don't you dare question me on that." Almaria's voice had strength, the most she had mustered since her tribe found out her secret, while her blue eyes burned with authority.

"When I have a reason to fight off something to defend my life and the lives of others," she said slowly, "I will not hesitate to plunge my sword into the sorry son of a bitch who dares to cross paths with me."

"You have a strong fire in your heart, Almaria," Ralof sighed, now much more calm than he was before. "I can see that in you. But I must warn you that the wilderness and people of Skyrim are not very merciful."

Almaria's fur now started to settle back down as she took in a deep breath.

"And," Ralof continued, "there will be plenty of times when you must kill others in order to survive, whether you want to or not. I understand that this isn't your fight. It's mine, the Stormcloaks', Jarl Ulfric's, and anyone one else who wishes to fight with us." He looked apologetically at Almaria. "No one is telling you that you need to pick a side, but for the time being you're going to have to fight and kill the Imperials in our way so that we can escape with our lives still intact."

After a few silent moments, Almaria nodded in saddened agreement. Ralof was right; she needed to live, and if she was going to survive in this new land she was going to have to learn how to defend herself against those who wanted to hurt her. She prayed that she would get over that nagging feeling of guilt. "Let us get out of here before the tower collapses on us."

As Ralof went to search the dead Captain for a key, Almaria couldn't help noticing that both of the soldiers had swords. Happily leaving the axe on the floor, she pulled the swords out from under cold hands and tested their weight. She couldn't help but smile slightly as she felt more in tune with the familiar weaponry.

_I suppose if I must fight and kill, it should be done swiftly and with grace. _

"Found one!" Ralof declared triumphantly as he held a key in the air. "Now we can finally get out of here!" As the Stormcloak quickly made his way to the formerly locked gate, Almaria followed suite while twirling the swords at her sides.


End file.
